Live like you were Dying
by JenLea
Summary: Prequel to Sand and Water Slash CenaOrton Randy finds out he is dying and struggles to cope with the thought of leaving his family
1. A Grim Prognosis

Live Like You Were Dying

_A Grim Prognosis_

Disclaimer: I own no one!

A/N- Another Sand and Water fic was just begging to be written…

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_We're quite certain that your cancer is incurable. _

Randy sighed, wondering how he could be dying. He didn't feel like he was dying. Mainly he was tired, but he was pretty sure that was a side effect of the chemotherapy.

"I can't be dying," he murmured, digging his toes into the sand. "John and Rhiannon need me,"

Suddenly, John and their young daughter, Rhiannon flashed through his mind. How could he leave them? He wanted to see her grow up. He wanted to be there for it all. He wanted to live.

_Randy, we'll be fine. I'm staying with you through it all. _

John was supportive. Randy knew he was lucky in that aspect. John was the only one to sit with him through treatment after treatment.

_How can I tell him I'm stopping all treatment and allowing nature to take its course? _He thought.

Rhiannon, his princess, was small. She wasn't really sure what was going on with her papa. All she really knew was that Randy was sick.

_How can I actually leave her? _He thought, thinking of his little girl.

Since becoming sick, Randy never went anywhere without his journal. The simple wire bound notebook was his salvation. It was his legacy to Rhiannon.

Rhiannon was so small that Randy wanted to leave a definite reminder of him for her.

_Dear John,_

_On this one occasion, I am allowing you to read my journal. You need to understand what is going on._

_The doctors have told me the course of treatment isn't working. They tell me the cancer is starting to spread._

_I am giving up on treatment._

_I'm not afraid of death. I view it as a new adventure. I am more afraid of leaving you and Rhiannon. _

_I have no clue why you've stayed with me through this. This can't be easy for you. I am so grateful for you and your love, especially through this ordeal._

_Rhiannon is so young. Will she remember me? I don't want our baby girl to forget me. _

_I'm still young. I shouldn't be dying._

_With less than a year on my life, I just want to live it to its fullest. I'm not going down without a fight._

_I love you._

_Love,_

_Randy_

Moving to his car, he prepared to head home. He needed to get home. It would probably be the last peace they had as a family and he wanted to enjoy it.

Driving in silence, time seemed to pass slowly. Part of him didn't want to head home and ruin his family.

_I've got to do this _he thought.

Rhiannon met him at the door, her blue eyes shining with admiration. "Papa, Daddy said he was goin' nuts!" she squealed.

"Hi, Rhia" Randy said, hugging his daughter. "Where's Daddy?"

"Cooking! We're having tofu stir fry with broccoli and sprouts,"

Randy shook his head, suppressing the urge to gag and laugh. Rhiannon had to be the only three year old that ate bean sprouts and tofu. John was constantly trying to get him to eat healthy food. Tofu wasn't a favorite dish of his, but John and Rhiannon loved it.

"Good news or bad news?" John asked, kissing Randy. "Why are you handing me this?" He gazed down at the journal.

Randy moved into the shower, leaving John to read the last journal entry. Pausing to gaze in the mirror, Randy gently ran his hand over his bald skull.

"Oh Randy" John murmured, watching Randy dress. "Is it true?" Slowly, Randy nodded.

He sighed, collapsing in John's arms. Hearing Rhiannon's laughter caused him to break down. It reminded him of what he would be missing.

"I don't want to leave either of you," he sobbed. "Especially not my princess,"

Laying there in John's arms, Randy could only be grateful for his husband being his backbone, his unmoving rock, but most of all, the love of his life.

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I'm not fully sure I want to continue this. HOWEVER, if I get five reviews or more, I will update...

Enjoy


	2. Spreading News

Live Like You were Dying

Spreading News 

Disclaimer: I only own Rhiannon. No one else…

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Randy watched Rhiannon play happily. Gazing from his daughter to his best friend and back, he prepared to give Trish the worst news ever.

"Trisha, I have some bad news," he murmured, watching Rhiannon play. Trish groaned.

"Last time you told me you had bad news, it was to tell me you were moving." She said. "Taking Rhiannon even farther?" Randy sighed. This was going to be even more difficult. "No, wait, last time you told me about bad news, it was to tell me you had cancer. Does it have something to do with that?"

"I'm dying. The cancer isn't responding to the treatment," he blurted out.

The petite woman collapsed in his arms. Randy, gently running his fingers through her hair, prepared to comfort her and hold his own tears back.

It seemed as if all he did was cry since getting the prognosis. It surprised him. He wasn't one to cry. Even when the diagnosis had first come in, he hadn't cried.

Trish had always been there for him. She had introduced him to his husband. She had given him Rhiannon. She was his best friend in every way. To see her cry cemented the situation for what it was.

"Randy, what about John and Rhiannon?" she asked, trembling violently. "Have you told them?"

"John knows," Randy muttered, sighing. "We don't know how to tell Rhiannon. We don't want to scare her,"

The back of his hand was marred with scar tissue from repeated Ivs. Gently, she traced the marks. "You're really sick, aren't you?"

Randy nodded, stifling a cough. "Yes. The cancer's spreading slowly. They say it'll be a few weeks before I feel anything, but within eight months or so it'll kill me,"

Randy hated seeing the pain in Trish's eyes.

"Do you remember when I dragged you bra shopping or when John wanted to call her Isis Symphony?" Trish asked, watching Rhiannon play.

"How could I forget?" he asked, lightly kissing Trish's head.

This news was worse than what Trish ever could have imagined. She had been expecting good news. Instead, she found out her best friend had mere months to live.

"Don't cry," Randy murmured. "Not yet. Save your tears," Just then Rhiannon ran up.

"Papa, what's heaven?"

The small child's innocent question caught him off guard. Clearing his throat, he prepared to answer her question.

"Heaven is where you go when you die. It's beautiful. You never get sick and you never get old,"

Rhiannon looked at him as if trying to take it all in. Blinking back tears, Randy met Trish's gaze. "Is that where Flopsy went?" Her small voice broke the silence.

"Yes, Flopsy's in Heaven,"

Randy had never known that six simple words could have so much impact. As soon as Rhiannon was on the playground, he broke down.

Trish wasn't used to seeing her best friend cry. In fact, she found it slightly awkward. She understood why he was crying but that didn't make it any easier.

"Shh," she whispered, rubbing his back. "It's going to be fine,"

As Trish took Rhiannon to the bathroom, Randy pulled his journal out. Beginning to cry, he began to write.

_I've just explained the concept of Heaven to Rhiannon. I'm not sure how much she understands, but it almost killed me. _

_Why would she ask me about that now?_

_It doesn't make sense._

Just then, Rhiannon snuggled up to him.

"I love you Papa"

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This fic has me tearing up. I hope you enjoyed it. Five reviews gets Part 3 up


	3. A Difficult Decision

Live Like You were Dying

_A Difficult Decision_

Disclaimer: I own no one!

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Randy gazed over at Rhiannon's sleeping body. How could he be giving up life? He still had so much to live for. He wanted to watch Rhiannon grow up. He wanted to drive her to her first day of school. He just wanted to be there for everything in her life.

Gazing to John, he gave his husband's hand a light squeeze. Gazing deep into his eyes, he searched for some hint of emotion. What was he thinking? Was it about him? Was it about their life? Or the news they had just gotten?

"I understand if you want to leave" Randy muttered softly, gazing out of the car window, his eyes falling on the starry sky. "Take Rhiannon and be happy, without worrying when I'm going to die,"

John swerved to the side of the road, causing Randy to go forward against his seatbelt. He unbuckled his belt and slipped his arm around his husband. Shaking his head, he sighed.

"I would never leave you, especially when you needed me." He said. "The doctors back at Sloan Kettering gave you the idea of that new treatment and it sounds promising,"

Randy nodded. He had to admit that it did sound promising.

Randy wasn't sure what the new treatment was called. He couldn't remember other than it was a really long name that was hard to pronounce. The doctors told him it was the latest treatment and it could put him into remission. Was it even worth the chance?

"I don't know," he muttered, coughing. Pain seized his chest, causing him to double over. "I've accepted my fate," He sighed. "I'll consider it,"

Randy wasn't sure how long they stayed on the side of the road. He didn't care though. He wanted to think. Would his life be prolonging for a few precious months?

Before long he dozed off.

"Wake up, you schmuck,"

Opening his eyes, Randy struggled to focus on the blurred head of his husband. Where were they? Why was he a schmuck? Better yet, what was a schmuck?

"What's a schmuck?" he groaned, closing his eyes again. His neck ached and his back was killing him. However, he still wanted to sleep.

"A schmuck is an idiot. Come on. Get up. You need to eat," John muttered, unbuckling Randy's seat belt. "Rhiannon won't eat without you there" Randy stood up, struggling out of the car. He couldn't help but notice John was holding their sleepy eyed three-year-old.

"Papa!" she squealed, holding her arms out. Randy chuckled, loving how the child seemingly awoke after seeing him. "We're in…" She gazed at John.

"Mystic," John said. Rhiannon nodded. Randy looked towards John.

_Mystic? _He mouthed, almost positive it was almost nowhere close to any of the possible routes that would take them home. John nodded, smirking.

"I thought Rhiannon would get a kick out of the whales," he admitted. "Belugas… they were my favorite growing up," Randy raised an eyebrow. "Besides, with you sick, I wanted to get a few happy memories into the mix," Randy nodded.

"Rhiannon, two bites," Randy pleaded, glancing down at the uneaten pancakes. He didn't know when but Rhiannon had gotten so picky lately. "Two bites and then we'll see the whales,"

_Leave it to us to have the kid who won't touch pancakes but loves tofu, _he thought, sipping orange juice. Recently, he had no taste for breakfast. In fact, eating too early tended to make him sick. He wasn't sure if it was the cancer or just his changing body.

"Papa, eat!" she squealed, pointing to the cakes soaked in syrup. Randy gulped. Eat? "I eat if Papa eat!" Silently, Randy exchanged a look with John. There was no way he could eat.

"Two bites for Daddy?" John asked, nodding to tell Randy he understood. "Daddy eat?" Rhiannon shook her head. Randy groaned, knowing what he would have to do. He would gladly get sick for Rhiannon's sake.

"How are you feeling?" John asked in a low whisper. Randy shook his head, signifying now was the wrong time to talk. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, he would vomit everywhere. He thought he might need to bring this up at his next doctor's appointment. The inability to eat breakfast was definitely not normal, especially for Randy, who had once thrived on a steady diet of chocolate croissants and cappuccino with his husband every morning.

Randy was grateful, when John, pulling Rhiannon by the hand, called that they would meet him at the front gate. Hunching over a grate, he emptied the contents of his stomach. Hands resting on his knees, he struggled for breath.

After his stomach had settled and his mouth was rinsed, Randy slowly hobbled toward the gate. He couldn't wait to see his family.

Later on, Randy was taken back by the awe in Rhiannon's face as she saw the beluga whale for the first time. He couldn't really explain what the childish innocence did to him. All he knew was that the reaction brought a smile to his face. What was so sweet about the childlike innocence?

How could he actually consider leaving this sweet girl? What would life be like for her without her beloved Papa? Could he even consider not taking the experimental treatment, knowing it could prolong his life and his time with Rhiannon?

"Papa, look at the Beuga!" Rhiannon exclaimed, mispronouncing the word in the way only a child could. Randy nodded, watching the big whale swim.

How could he really be expected to leave his princess?

Maybe the experimental treatment was worth it…

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	4. I don't Want Her Afraid

Live Like You were Dying

I don't want Her Afraid… 

Disclaimer: I own no one!

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Struggling not to cry, Randy leaned back in the hospital bed. He couldn't believe his first hospitalization had to happen days before Christmas. Of all the times to get sick! He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be with Rhiannon. He wanted to enjoy the high-rise apartment they were temporarily renting. If they couldn't be home for Christmas, he at least wanted to make it homey for Rhiannon.

"John?" Randy rasped, gently shaking his husband awake. John glanced up, his eyes heavy with sleep. Randy felt terrible, waking him up, but he needed help. "John?"

"Yes?" he murmured. Randy choked.

"I need something to throw up in," he gagged, struggling not to vomit. He could barely keep any food down, no matter how much he tried. John handed him a pink plastic bucket.

"Rand, they're going to want to tube feed you" John murmured, rubbing his partner's back. "You're barely keeping anything down. Sweetie, you look terrible," Randy groaned, rinsing his mouth and spitting into the bucket.

His two hundred and forty-five pound frame was down to a scarily thin one hundred and forty. He hadn't meant to lose so much weight. However, being sick just did that to him. If anything, he would give anything to be back to his normal healthy weight. He hated looking so sick.

"Once this infection clears, I'll be fine," he murmured, referring to the infection running rampant through his chemotherapy port. "The antibiotics are making me nauseous, and the fact they reinserted my Hickman line doesn't help," He groaned. "I just want to spend Christmas with my daughter and husband. Why is that so difficult?"

He watched John scribble frantically in a notebook. He couldn't help but wonder what he was writing. Was John tired of watching him die? Why did he put himself through this hell?

"There is no way you'll be home for Christmas,"

The doctor's words caught Randy off guard. Christmas was four days away. How could he be so sure Randy would miss Christmas?

"You've developed a nasty case of Pneumonia, probably a side effect of the Hickman line Infection. If I let you out and something aggravates the pneumonia, you could die." The doctor explained.

Randy settled into the bed, struggling not to cry. He wanted so desperately to be home with Rhiannon. She deserved both parents at Christmas. Why couldn't life be fair?

"John," Randy rasped, watching the doctor vanish out the door. "Promise me something."

"Anything, My Love,"

"Spend Christmas with our girl," he murmured. "She deserves at least one of her daddies with her on it," He sighed, tears spilling from his eyes. "Sweetie, can we have a serious conversation?"

John sat down in a hard plastic chair. Reaching out, he gripped Randy's hand. He couldn't help but wonder what was wrong. He had never seen Randy so serious. What could it be?

"I'm trying two more rounds of chemo. If that doesn't work, then, I want to die peacefully," he murmured. "If I'm going to be in the hospital, I want to know my pain will end," Then, he began to violently cough.

He was grateful that John was there to rub his back, and tell him everything would be alright. He wasn't sure how to feel though, knowing John was giving up time with Rhiannon to be with him.

Children were only little for so long, Randy knew. He didn't want John to miss the crucial Toddler years, and regret it in ten years when he was gone.

Rhiannon had always come first with them. How many nights had they sat up, making sure she was alright because of a simple cold? Hadn't Randy refused to leave her side when she was born because she was in NICU?

"Rhiannon wants to visit you," John murmured, his gaze drifting to the Venetian blinds covering the windows. "I don't know what to tell her," Randy nodded. "Will she be able to understand how sick you are?" He sighed. "I don't want to upset her,"

Randy could sympathize with everything John said. Secretly, they were his fears. He had never gone so long without seeing his daughter. He missed Rhiannon more than he had ever missed someone.

Where was Santa when you needed him?


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